


It Gets Better

by Plucky_Brit



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, FZZT, Fluff, I miss when things were simple on the plane, Jemma had a lousy childhood, Team as Family, but the bus family are making up for it, jemma as a kid, meeting fitz for the first time, season 1 on the bus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 09:52:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6901075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plucky_Brit/pseuds/Plucky_Brit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma's been alone for her whole childhood: parents who didn't understand her, peers who teased her. The academy is her chance to get away, meet new people and live a life her six year old self could only have dreamed of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“She’s too much for me. I don’t know what to do with her.”

Jemma may have only been six, but she knew whom her mother was talking about. _They don’t want me. I messed up again._ Her little hands clenched around the banisters as she strained her ears to hear the reply.

“What’s she done now, Maud? She’s six for goodness sake, she can’t be that bad.” That was her father’s voice. She shivered a little. He scared her.

“She’s just not normal, Owen. There’s something wrong with her. She doesn’t say a word; she just sits there with those books of hers. Her teacher says she’s difficult at school, too. She won’t do the work and she won’t say why.” Her mother said, her voice getting louder so Jemma could hear easier.

_I’ll be more normal. I’ll talk to the teacher._ _Please don’t be angry. I didn’t mean to be naughty. I didn’t know that I was being naughty._ She’d tried talking, though. When she spoke she said the wrong thing. People got angry then, too.

She held her breath as she waited for her father’s reply.

“JEMMA.” His voice called, loud and cold. She shuddered, gripping the railings tighter, still sitting on the stairs.

“JEMMA SIMMONS.” He called again, even louder. She could picture his face, red and sweaty, his little eyes bloodshot and his breath smelling sour, the stink of that gold liquid he always drank permeating through his pores. It’d be worse if she didn’t go now. She knew that. But she couldn’t let go, couldn’t bring herself to go down there, to go willingly to whatever lay in store.

His footsteps began to walk along the hall. Soon he’d see her sitting there. Maybe if she hid in her room, under the bed…

“Jemma. Get. Down. Here. Now.” His voice was sharp. She was too late. Finally she unprized her hands from the rails they were clutching, standing and staring at her feet. She didn’t want to look at him. She began to go down the steps ever so slowly, the sound of his heavy breathing filling her ears. He was so angry.

She didn’t even know why.

She was on the second to last step when he grabbed her shoulder, pulling her roughly and quickly to the bottom with such force that she fell to her knees, the cold marble floor hard beneath her. She stood up immediately, bringing her eyes up to his chest.

“Look at me Jemma.” He said, his words saturated with disgust. Finally she lifted her eyes to meet his. “I’m so disappointed.”

His words hurt her heart.

She licked her lips, swallowed. “I… I don’t know what I’ve done.” She croaked, her voice rusty from disuse. His scowl deepened.

“Don’t act like you weren’t just listening on the stairs, girl. Not working in school, eh? You’re more trouble than your worth.” He growled, a fleck of spit fling from his lips and onto her cheek. She flinched. “Why can’t you be like your brother? He knows how to make his parents proud. Everything we do for you: buy you all those books, send you to that good school, put the clothes on your back. You throw it in our faces, live with your head in the clouds, ignore us, ignore your schoolmates, ignore your teachers.” His face was growing redder and redder, jowls wobbling viciously. “And you don’t know what you’ve done? You ungrateful little shit.” She whimpered at the venom in his voice and he laughed sickeningly. “That’s right. You should be scared. Don’t know how lucky you’ve been so far.” As he spoke he began to unbuckle his belt, sliding it out of its loops slowly.

When he was done, his belt hanging ready in his hand like a snake playing dead waiting to bite, he grabbed her by the arm, holding so tight she knew she’d have little blue bruises where his fingers gripped.

Unable to struggle she was dragged to the small door under the stairs. He opened it quickly and the familiar smell of damp flooded her nostrils. The dark opening leered at her as he deposited her over the chair that he kept there for this very purpose.

The lick of the belt came suddenly, her cotton skirt offering little protection to its sharp kiss. She bunched her hands up tightly, tears leaking from her eyes as four more blows followed quickly. Then the chair, and her still on it, was pushed roughly back into the small cavity and she was plunged into darkness as her father slammed the door, leaving her in the pitch black of the cupboard.

“A night should do it.” She heard her father mutter, his voice breathless from the exertion of losing his temper, and then she was left alone.

She pulled herself off the chair, standing in the small space, her head brushing the ceiling. She wanted to sit down, but her bottom was still burning, and there wasn’t enough space to lie on her tummy. _Pretend you’re in a story. This isn’t real. They love you. They want you. There’s nothing waiting in the dark._ She repeated the mantra to herself until she was unable to stand anymore she was so tired, her legs trembling as they tried to hold her up. Finally she slid down the wall, wincing as she sat on the cold floor, stretching her legs out till they collided with the legs of the chair. The house was quiet around her now: everyone must have gone to bed. She kept her eyes wide open, staring uselessly into the pitch black, willing her stare to keep the monsters at bay.

 

……………………….

_Grow up, Jemma. Be normal. Don’t look at them, just ignore them, they’re being stupid. They’re all stupid. You can do it again. You can do it better this time, too, use that new solution you read about. There are always setbacks for scientists. Don’t cry, Don’t let them know they’ve got to you. It doesn’t hurt anyway. Not properly._

Nine year old Jemma was sitting on her own again, crouched in the corner of the dormitory, resolutely averting her eyes from the group of girls that were giggling and looking over at her.

She was hunched over her notebook, scribbling frantically, trying to recreate the work that had just been flushed down the loo by the same girls who were watching maliciously now.

She rubbed her wrist absentmindedly then stopped quickly when she the laughter got louder. She hadn’t meant to rub it, to let them know they had hurt her. _It doesn’t hurt, don’t think about it, just focus on the chemistry. Numbers are calming._

It did hurt though, badly.

One of the girls, the one who’d been kept down a year and so was a whole year older than all the other girls, who were already four years older than Jemma, had twisted it violently when Jemma had tried to grab her work back. She was so much bigger, and Jemma was small for her age as it was, and Jemma had tried to pull her arm away and she thought she’d felt something pop but she was so focused on getting away that she’d ignored the pain until now. The problem was that now it really was quite bad. She dared to glance down at her wrist and saw to her alarm that it was bruising, red tinged with blue.

It was bedtime, though, and matron would be mad if she started complaining now.

……………….

She waited at the station for her mother, terrified to face her, to see her disappointment. She may have outgrown the small space under the stairs, but she was sure her father would have something planned to express his disappointment. Aged thirteen and kicked out of school. They’d be so embarrassed. She was doing so well, too: all those A levels: the best the school had ever seen, their own child prodigy to show off to the world.

It had been months since she’d last seen her parents, but they’d written after her last exams. Her father had said he was proud. Her mother had signed the letter off with an ‘I love you.’

She’d thrown that all away with one useless experiment. She hadn’t intended for the lab to burn down. It wasn’t her fault that Kara Wilson had switched the chemicals in the bottles for another malicious prank. It wasn’t her fault that Kara had refused to admit it, either. Expulsion was a little harsh though, she thought.

She was torn from her thoughts by the honking of a horn. Her mother had arrived.

The trip home was totally silent, her mother not even opening her mouth to say hello. Jemma didn’t try to speak to her either.

Her father’s reaction was far worse. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him this angry, and her dreams were filled with him at his worst, red face and screaming lungs. It was far worse than anything she’d ever dreamt.

When he pulled out the belt she wanted to laugh. She thought she’d outgrown that punishment. She wasn’t a six year old any more, wasn’t easily cowed. But when she walked away from him he had grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her around and holding her tightly, her struggles useless.

She felt afraid then, more than she ever had before as the man who was supposed to love her pushed her back, one hand coming up to her neck, pinning her tightly against the wall so tightly she couldn’t breathe. She battered her small fists against his fat chest, but it was useless, she was useless, and she couldn’t breathe.

His fist met her stomach, pushing her own useless arms away, and the force of the blow sent the last of the air from her lungs. As her vision faded she felt his fist meet her stomach again, and suddenly she dropped to the floor, his grip around her neck releasing her.

She took in great gasps of air, her lungs burning and her eyes watering with relief. It didn’t last long, as she heard the familiar crack of leather and saw a black shape whistle through her vision before the bite of the buckle met her back. She curled up into a ball, desperately trying to make herself as small as possible, the blows continuing to fall onto her.

When she woke, she was still in a ball, her arms wrapped tightly around her body. She didn’t remember passing out, but her head throbbed painfully in time with the rest of her body, and she decided that he must have caught her head with that vicious buckle and knocked her out.

Opening her eyes she was alarmed to see only black. For a heart stopping second she thought she may be blind, but then her logical mind caught up, and she decided that it was simply night.

That was what she told herself anyway. No point panicking.

Ignoring her aching limbs she decided to stretch out, pushing her legs slightly only to meet immediate resistance. There was a wall there. Her heart racing a little more, she tried to wiggle backwards, extracting her hands from beneath her, only to collide with another hard surface.

_No. They couldn’t have._

She reached out desperately, her hands flying forwards in panic only to meet another cold wall.

_They have. Oh my God they have._

She sat up slightly, a hand tentatively reached above, and almost instantly she found the hard ceiling that haunted her dreams.

_I’m under the stairs. They’ve put me back in this box._

A shaky sob slipped from her lips as her head bumped against the ceiling, so low she couldn’t even sit upright. She could feel the walls pressing in on her from all sides, the darkness smothering her. She couldn’t breathe in the tiny space: there wasn’t enough air. It was too much, she couldn’t do this: she’d die here if they left her all night.

_Keep it together, Jemma._ She took a gasping breath, pressing her shaking hands to her forehead and ignoring her body’s protest as she brought her knees up to her chest. _Keep it together. Deep breaths. You’re better than them._ It was enough. Finally she clawed back control. They could lock her up, but they couldn’t break her.

 

………………

 

She was sixteen when she left the house for the last time. Her parents weren’t there to say goodbye as she put her bags in the back of the S.H.I.E.L.D car they’d sent to take her to the airport. The man driving the car asked if she wanted to wait for them to come home. He looked surprised at her laugh.

“I think this is for the best.” She told him. He looked at her understandingly.

“Goodbyes can be hard, can’t they?” He said comfortingly. She didn’t correct him.

..............................

 

The academy was all she’d hoped it could be. She had lab space, and she had professors who cared, who were excited by her ideas and who could keep up with her manic mind. It didn’t matter that she was the youngest by more than four years, except for that other boy who kept to himself and didn’t even try to talk to anyone.

True, she’d had hopes of making friends, but the age gaps had always been a problem, and as long as she had her science and her books she was lonely.

She hadn’t meant to get locked in the storage cupboard. It was pretty late, or early, even, depending on how you looked at it, and she was still working in the Chem Lab, her mind spinning as she tried to solve the problem that had been bothering her for days. She’d finally come to the conclusion that she needed to change her formula and had hurried to the cupboard to gather the necessary supplies.

It was more of a storage room really, and the chemical she needed was stacked at the back, in one of the small fridges. Propping the door open carefully, she’d hurried into the room, ignoring the tight walls, and yanked open the fridge, extracting the small vial.

She heard a small bang behind her, accompanied by a small gust of air on her neck. She froze.

_No. Please no._

She turned slowly, the vial clenched in her hand as she tried to steady her breathing. The door was shut.

_No problem. I’ll just open it again. Don’t panic, Jemma._

She pressed her hand against the handle, pushing hard. It didn’t budge. She whimpered pitifully. Why wasn’t it opening? It wasn’t supposed to lock automatically. Taking deep breaths she examined the frame quickly, and saw to her horror that the plastic broom she’d used to prop it open in the first place must have snapped, and a small shard from the handle seemed to have gotten caught in the mechanism, jamming the door shut.

She was trapped, locked in.

“No.” She groaned, loosing control of her steady breathing as she felt the cold press of the walls around her.

“Help.” She croaked, her voice a useless whimper.

Then she snapped, her fists flying, the vial shattering in her hand as she pounded against the treacherous door, her cries for help punctuated by bone shaking sobs. She wasn’t at the academy anymore, she was eight years old, skinny and cold and terrified, trapped and hungry. She was never going to get out, and they would find her in the morning and….

The door flew open.

She stumbled, her unbalanced body toppling forwards and into the arms of the boy who had clearly just opened the door. She recoiled immediately, stepping away from the door and sinking to the floor, still struggling to breathe, even as the walls finally stopped smothering her.

“Are you alright?” The boy asked. She held up a hand, trying to tell him she just needed a minute, and he gasped. “You’re bleeding.” He told her seriously, taking the hand she’d just gestured with.

His touch seemed to calm her, she realised with a start, as the air began to slide into her chest that bit easier. She looked at the hand she was holding, saw the pool of blood welling in her palm. He was looking a little green but he didn’t let go, his brow creased with concern.

“Thank you.” She whispered, and he looked up at her surprised. 

“Well I wasn’t going to leave you in there.” He said with a small grin. Then he looked serious again. “Um… I think this may need stitches.” He told her. 

“Oh.” She said softly. The boy was still looking closely at her face, although she thought perhaps it was to avoid looking at the blood in her palm.

“Um, it’s Jemma, isn’t it?” He asked her, and she looked at him surprised. “I mean, the English accent, the fact you’re half the age of everyone here, and you were in the chemistry store, too.” He said a little sheepishly. “Doesn’t take a genius to work it out.”

She looked at him closely, suddenly realising she knew exactly who he was. She’d not seen him close up before, but the Scottish accent, the boyish face, it must be him. “You’re Leopold, right?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken so long, I have the next few chapters ready so will be updating quicker next time!

“You won’t regret this Fitz, I promise. We’ll have everything you need in the lab in the plane, and it’s not like we can’t get frequent access to the Sandbox labs, or even visit the Sci-Tech facilities occasionally. What an opportunity, Fitz, we can see the world this way!” She was babbling excitedly to Fitz’s back as she helped him pack up their small apartment. 

They’d just been offered a place on a mobile task force, and Jemma had spent the past few days convincing him that it was a good idea.

“I know, Simmons, I’m excited too.” He said with a smile, holding the last box up. “Let’s get this in store and then we can get going. The rendezvous is in two hours, we’d best hurry up.” 

A SHIELD car, identical to the one that had driven her away from Sheffield all those years ago, had picked them up and driven them to a small nondescript airfield, where the plane was waiting for them.

Jemma turned to Fitz, grinning at his awed expression. “Doesn’t look too bad does it?” She teased him.

He looked around at her, his grin mirroring her own as he took in the jet they would be living on. “Look at this, Simmons. It’s incredible, what a feat of engineering… if I could just get a look at the hydraulics system, I’m sure it’s based of some of Stark’s designs and I’d love to get my hands on those. Imagine the possibilities Jemma!”

She laughed at his childish happiness. 

Coulson was waiting for them when they pulled up outside the cargo hold, and she could see another woman standing further inside, her face cast in shadow.

“FitzSimmons, I believe.” He said smiling. Jemma nodded, smiling back. 

“Yes sir. That’s us. She’s bio-chem, I’m engineering.” Fitz told him.

“Well, welcome to the team. Lets get you both settled in. I’ll show you to the lab. It’s really quite extraordinary, the way they’ve managed to fit so much into this plane.” He told them as he walked them up the ramp, lifting Jemma’s bag out of her hands. 

He showed them the lab quickly, and then pulled both of them away to see the rest of the plane before they could get too caught up in the excitement of new equipment. She could see the amusement on their new boss’s face as he watched them fawn over the pristine facility. 

After that he took them to the living area, and Jemma was impressed by the luxurious space: the sofas and the bar as well as the large kitchen all seemed out of place on a plane. Coulson nodded in agreement when she voiced her observation.

“It’s a mobile unit, so it’s more than just transport. We’ll be living here too, and Fury owes me a few favours. I told him I expected to be comfortable and he pulled out all the stops.” He told them. 

When they reached the small capsule rooms however, Jemma felt a slight tightening in her chest. Fitz was instantly beside her, his hand ghosting protectively across her back as he sensed her discomfort. The rooms really were rather small, and if anything her claustrophobia had only gotten worse over past years. She would have to get used to it though: she wasn’t about to back out of a once in a lifetime opportunity because she didn’t like the sleeping arrangements.

She gave Fitz a quick smile, to show him she was okay, and he returned it, although she knew he’d be keeping an eye on her tonight, once they were actually going to have to spend time in the small bunks. 

Coulson, totally unaware, carried on talking about the high tech installations in each pod, pointing out the comms systems and workstations within each unit. He even gave them a quick run down on how to use the screens set into the walls, clearly unaware that Fitz had been the one to design them in the first place. He looked up when Fitz gave a dry chuckle, breaking off mid flow.

“Is something amusing?” he asked curiously. 

Fitz looked at Jemma, and she smiled back at him. “It’s just that I’m already quite familiar with the system sir. We both are.” He told Coulson. Jemma was surprised at the crestfallen look that crossed Coulson’s face.

“You are? I was told that this was the first place that this technology was installed. They haven’t even started using it in the Sandbox yet.” 

“Ah, well, that’s true sir, but as the person who invented them, I pride myself on being able to use my own technology.” Fitz said cheekily. 

Jemma was pleased to see an impressed smile flit across Coulson’s face. “Really? Well, I did hear that you were good.” He said with a laugh. “Now, that’s everything I think. I’ll leave you two to get settled in here and in the lab. Our specialist will be arriving in a few hours and then it’ll be wheels up. I’ll introduce you to the pilot later, she’s just sorting her own things at the moment.” 

Once they were alone Fitz turned to Jemma, a serious look on his face. “Will this be okay, Jemma?” He asked, gesturing to the small pod. 

She shrugged. “I think so. I just need to get used to it, spend some time in there but with the door open.” In truth her heart was pounding at the thought of even entering the small space, but she meant what she said. She’d have to get used to it, there was no choice, not now. He gave her an encouraging smile and she knew that he understood her dilemma. 

“Well why don’t we go down to the lab for now? Get comfortable there?” He suggested gently, and she smiled gratefully, following him back down the stairs.

……………………..

Life on the plane was good, for the most part, and Jemma honestly found that she was more content that she’d ever been. For the first time in her life she had people that she could call friends, other than Fitz, people that she truly cared about and who returned that affection, and Skye was rapidly becoming one of her favourite people in the world. It was almost overwhelming, sometimes, to have people so concerned for her. 

Especially when she was infected with an alien virus and the ante-serum had just failed for the last time. 

She felt strangely calm, her virus-ridden body weak but her mind strong. She knew what she had to do. She looked up to the door, ignoring Fitz who was staring resolutely at the dead rat, clearly praying for some sort of miracle. She was far too logical to waste time on such whims. Through the door she could see the rest of the team, each one wearing an expression grimmer than the next. Skye was crying. She could see the tear tracks down her face.

“Sir. If you wouldn’t mind, could I have a moment alone with Fitz?” She asked, her voice a little shaky but her words clear. She saw Coulson’s torment as he nodded and followed the others back up the stairs. He was too good a man, she knew that, and he wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t going to throw her from the plane, he still had hope in her. But he didn’t understand the science, didn’t feel the virus coursing through her system. Her time was up. She knew it. 

She turned around to Fitz. He was examining the delivery mechanism carefully, but she could see his wet eyes. “Fitz.” She croaked. He didn’t look at her.

“If we change the component that delivered the shock then may-“

“Fitz. Stop.” She whispered. “It’s too late.” She raised the fire extinguisher and brought it down hard.

It wasn’t hard enough though, and as she stood on the edge of the door, the wind tugging at her, pulling her closer, she turned to see him standing at the door, his face contorted with grief. It broke her heart.

If this was how it felt to get close to people, then she was glad she wouldn’t have to live with it for much longer. 

She leaned back and let the wind pull her away from him.


	3. Chapter 3

The spin was sickening, the air rushing past her face, her eyes streaming from the force. She could see the sea beneath her, tiny white horses peaking, the foam growing larger as she fell further. 

She screamed when she felt the hands around her, so shocked was she. There was no time to register who it was, to work out what was happening, before she felt a sharp pain in her leg and the world faded around her. 

She woke suddenly, tugging away from whatever was wrapped around her, only to inhale a great lungful of water so violently that she couldn’t breathe for several seconds as she coughed. Finally she relaxed, realising that she wasn’t sinking, that someone was holding her carefully.

“You okay?” He asked, and she wiped her eyes carefully before opening them. 

Ward was behind her, a strong arm wrapped around her waist as they treaded water. She nodded shakily. Her head hurt and she felt like she could sleep for a month, but she was alive.

“More than okay.” She told him, with a watery smile. “How….?” She asked, hesitantly.

“The anti-serum worked. Don’t ask me how. Fitz was about to jump when I got down to the lab, but I thought it was safer if I took over… I have the training and all that.” He said gently.

“Fitz was going to jump?” She asked unbelievingly, and he nodded, a small smile on the edge of his lips.

“Seriously though, are you feeling okay? No offence, but you look really awful right now.” He told her, and she felt a shiver of warmth at the concern in his voice. 

“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” She told him gently. Then a terrible thought gripped her. “Have you spoken to the others? Do they know I’m… we’re alive?” She asked frantically, and his grim expression told him what she needed to know. “Oh god, Fitz. He’ll be distraught. How long was I unconscious?” She asked desperately.

“About ten minutes. There’s no point panicking, Simmons. I’ve no doubt they’re freaking out right now, but they won’t care the second they learn you’re alive. “ She hoped he was right. She didn’t want to hurt them anymore than she had already. 

They were picked up by a large military vessel, with the Moroccan flag flying on the deck. Ward looked worried as the boat approached them, pulling himself into the small tender they’d sent to pick them up before pulling Jemma in behind him, placing himself between him and the burly looking men that were in the boat. 

Jemma heard him speak to the men in Arabic, and heard Coulson’s name mentioned, after which Ward visibly relaxed. 

“Coulson sent them to look for us.” He told her quickly, when she looked at him questioningly. 

When they reached the main vessel, Ward kept an arm wrapped tight around her, for which she was grateful. She wasn’t quite sure she could trust her legs to keep her upright: the virus had been vicious, draining her of her strength, and the time spent treading water in the cold sea hadn’t helped. She shivered, and Ward squeezed her close. 

“We’ll be picked up quickly.” He assured her. She nodded numbly, and he spun her around so that she was facing him, his hands on her shoulders. “Jemma?” He asked, and she could hear worry in his voice.

“ ‘m jus’ tired.” She croaked, swaying a little as the deck rolled beneath her. She didn’t have the energy to protest when he scooped her into his arms, cradling her to his chest. Her eyes drifted shut before he even laid her down onto the floor on the small room they’d been led to, her head resting in his lap. 

She was woken by angry voices, one of which was very familiar. Agent May was talking loudly in Arabic. She sat up quickly, ignoring the head-rush and looked around for Ward. He was gone, his lap had been replaced with a balled up jumper. Shivering she pulled it on, standing and using the wall as a support: her legs still a little rubbery. She pulled open the door, welcoming the fresh burst of air that hit her. 

“May.” She said quietly, and the older agent whirled around. 

“Simmons. Thank god. These idiots decided to be difficult. Well, now that we have you we don’t need to keep this debate up.” She said in English, before turning back to the solider and saying something smug in Arabic.

“Where’s Ward?” Jemma asked, as May walked towards her, turning her back on the other soldier. 

“I’ve already got Ward, but he kicked up a bit of a fuss so they wouldn’t let him back on the boat after they handed him over. I’ve no idea what these fools thought they were going to achieve, corrupt to the teeth, clearly hoping for a little cash in exchange for their favour.” She snorted.

“Sorry.” Jemma said sheepishly, and to her surprise May squeezed her shoulder gently.

“Don’t. We’re all glad to see you alive.” She said gently, and Jemma felt a warmth totally unrelated to the jumper she was now wearing at the truth she heard in May’s words. “Fitz, especially.”

They reached the bus, it’s large frame looking ridiculous perched on the docks, and she’d barely stepped onto the bay doors when she felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around her, and a choked voice.

“Jemma. Never. Ever. Do that again.” He croaked, as Jemma brought her arms up to return the hug, marvelling at the feel of him under her hands. For a few minutes of her life she had thought she would never get to do this again, a fact that was only just beginning to catch up with her.

“Fitz, I’m so sorry.” She whispered. “I didn’t know the anti-serum had worked.” 

“Well I bloody hope you didn’t.” He replied, pulling away finally so that she could look into his face. He looked rather pale and shaky, and she felt a stab of guilt. She was the reason he looked so awful. 

She left Fitz at his bunk and walked into the sitting room, where Coulson was waiting for her. Ward was just behind her. Coulson’s face was unreadable.

His telling off was pretty light, all things considered, and his words at the end had made her want to cry. "We’d hate to loose you". She hated the thought of loosing them too. Having them around her, a family that cared for her. Well, it was more than she’d ever hoped for. She’d thought she’d hit the jackpot when she met Fitz, but now… she had people that would jump out of a plane for her, and she’d never take it for granted. 

Fitz joined her in her bunk that night, and she was grateful that she didn’t have to ask him. He’d stayed with her just like he had when they’d first moved onto the bus, talking her though her panic and helping her find comfort in the small room rather than threat. She wasn’t exactly comfortable spending time there, and used it only for sleeping, but she was a darn sight better than she had been the first night when she’d hardly slept, her eyes wide open in the gloomy space as the walls hovered threateningly close. 

The bunk was pretty narrow, but it was no worse than the single beds in the academy and they’d fallen asleep in each other’s rooms a hundred times before. Fitz settled onto it with a familiarity that she found comforting. She took his hand as he squeezed between her and the wall, leaving her with the open space to one side. 

“Thank you.” She said quietly, rolling over to look at him.

“I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight anyway, Jem. In fact, I’m here for entirely selfish reasons as I think I’ll sleep a whole lot better now.” He said kindly, and her eyes filled with tears. “Hey, don’t cry, Jemma. I’m sorry.” He said quickly, his voice gentle. She shook her head.

“Don’t do that. Don’t say you’re sorry. Ward told me you were going to jump… I… thank you.” She told him again, squeezing the hand she was holding. “And now… you’re here without me even asking. I don’t deserve you, Leopold Fitz. You’re too good a friend for me.” She whispered, tears leaking from her eyes. With one gentle hand he wiped them away.

“Never say that, Jemma. I’d be lost without you: that awkward kid who didn’t speak to anyone except his mum.” He said firmly. “You are the best thing in the entire world, so selfless you jumped out of a plane to save your friends.” He was so sweet that it hurt Jemma’s heart. 

“I didn’t think that this is what it would feel like.” She croaked, trying to put her aching heart into words. Having them all there: a family, was like nothing she’d ever felt before. She didn’t know how everyone else did it, how they lived with the constant ache of fear that something terrible could happen to someone she loved. Fitz shuffled awkwardly beside her and she looked at him questioningly.

“Um… I thought Coulson would tell you but I guess it slipped his mind… he, um, he called your parents.” Fitz said slowly, examining her face carefully for any reaction. Her heart began to beat that bit faster.

“Oh. What… what did he say?” She asked cautiously.

“It was after we knew you were alive… he only told me after he’d done it. I think he thought he was doing you a favour, telling them so that they could support you. He didn’t give them all the details, just said that you’d been really sick. I’m sorry, Jemma, if he’d told me before I would have stopped him.” He said softly, and she could see the guilt on his face. She sighed.

“Oh, Fitz, it’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter really anyway. It’s not as if I’m about to call them.” She said firmly. “And they aren’t about to pick up the phone and call me after the last time.” She said rather smugly, remembering the last time she’d seen her parents. 

They’d shown up to her graduation right out of the blue, all smiles and hugs, expecting her to be pleased to see them. Her father had read about her, it seemed, and he wanted in on the Jemma Simmons success story. In no uncertain terms she’d told them to leave, to leave her alone for good, and so far they had upheld their end. “I only hope they didn’t take Coulson’s phone call as a peace offering from me.” She said hesitantly.

“If they call I’ll answer for you. I have a few things I’d like to say to them.” He told her firmly, and she let out a small burst of laughter.

“Thank you, Fitz. I’d appreciate that.” She whispered, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it tightly.

Sleep came easily after that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the delays in updates, hope you guys enjoy!!

Despite their conversation, when her phone rang the next day as they were getting ready to take off from the Sandbox, she was so surprised that she dropped the box she was holding. Skye laughed at Jemma’s muttered apology, clearly totally unaware of the shocked expression that had left Jemma frozen as she stared at her phone, looking at the familiar name on the screen. Before Jemma could stop her, Skye had fished the phone out of Jemma’s hand, looking at the caller identity herself.

“Owen Simmons. Is that a relative?” And before Jemma could stop her, she had pressed the green button. “It’s better to bite the bullet with family, so I’ve heard.” Skye said kindly as she held the phone back to Jemma, blissfully ignorant of the panic that was raging through her head.

“Um. Could you get Fitz, please?” She croaked out to Skye. Her friend nodded, leaving her in the common room as she headed down to the lab.

Jemma, heart pounding, palms sweaty, lifted the phone to her ear. 

“Hello?” She whispered, willing the line to stay quiet.

“ _Jemma. Good to hear your voice.”_ Her father’s voice reached her ear, and she had to fight the impulse to recoil. _“We were worried after your boss’s phone call yesterday._  

“I didn’t ask him to call. I wish he hadn’t.” She said coldly, her voice not betraying the anxiety that had flared inside her as his harsh voice brought back a hundred memories, none of them good.

_“Yes, well.”_ He said awkwardly, much to Jemma’s satisfaction. _“We need to talk._ ” He said and anger welled in Jemma.

“No, we don’t, _Dad_.” She spat as she slid down onto the sofa. “I made that very clear the last time.”

_Now listen here young lady, we may be on complicated terms but we are your family, and when your family needs something, you damned well help.”_ Her father said, and she could hear the venom in his voice. She was a little incredulous at his words, too. He seriously thought she was going to give him help? She let out a bark of laughter.

“If you think for one second I’m going to do anything for you – “

_“Not for me. For your brother.”_ Her father interrupted. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fitz enter the room, his face dark with anger. She could see Skye behind him too, looking a little guilty. Fitz must have explained a little to her.

“What about my brother?” She asked her father reluctantly. Whilst she was hardly close to him, she had at least kept in touch with him over the years, and he’d stayed a couple of times at the academy.

_“That organisation you work for, they do law enforcement, don’t they?”_ Her father asked, and she felt a wave of concern for her older brother. 

“What’s he done?” She asked seriously. Her father cleared his throat at the other end of the line.

_“Well, he got in a bit of trouble last week, running a scam. He, er, got picked up by the police several nights ago and they’re holding him without bail.”  
_

“How am I meant to fix that? He made his own choices.” She said firmly.

_“He already has a criminal record, Jemma. He’ll be going to prison for this. Do you know what that’ll mean for our family? For you? I hardly think the scientific community will revere you the way they do now if they know your brother is a criminal.”_ He spoke so sincerely that Jemma couldn’t help but laugh.

“Jesus, dad, do you really think people would care? I know it’s hard for you to believe, but most people judge based on the individual, not their family, thank god, otherwise they’d be accusing me of violence and abuse and god knows what other shit you’ve done.” She spat venomously. In the corner of her eye she saw Skye pale a little, and Fitz took a step forward, ready to snatch the phone from her hand. She shook her head at him.

“If I help him now, I never want to hear from you ever again. I mean it. This is _it_ , for good. And if you ever try to contact me again and I find out about it, I have some very good friends who can do some very damaging things to that reputation you care so much about.” She told her father. There was heavy breathing at the other end of the line. Jemma could picture him, angry red face growing puce as he tried not to loose control. 

_“Fine.”_ He growled. “ _This is it. Stop your brother from going to prison and that’ll be it. Your family will be gone. You’ll be all alone. But don’t you ever think you can come crawling to us when the shit hits the fan.”_ His words didn’t hurt as much as they once would have.

“No, dad.” She said softly. “You were never a family. I know that now, now that I have a real one.” She looked over at Fitz, his eyes big and warm, and he gave her the most blinding smile. “Goodbye, dad.” She said quietly. She hung up before he could speak again.

Instantly Fitz rushed over to her, sliding onto the sofa beside her. She leant her head onto his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her, realising that she was shaking.

“That was brilliant, Jemma.” He said softly. “I can’t believe that bastard had the audacity to actually call.”

“Oh. Well, it wasn’t a courtesy call after my health. He wants me to stop my brother going to prison… I… I don’t even know if I can do that.” She said with a shaky laugh, and then suddenly she was crying, tears streaming down her face. She brushed them away frustrated. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I should be happy.” She whispered into his neck as he stroked her hair gently.

“No, you shouldn’t, Jem.” He corrected her. “They’re terrible people, but they’re your family. It’ll always hurt a little that they couldn’t be the people you deserved for them to be.”

Skye sat down on her other side, looking guilty. “I’m so sorry, Jemma. I… I didn’t realise. God. I’m the one the suggested Coulson call them. I’m so sorry.” She whispered, looking like she was going to cry herself.

Jemma held out an arm, awkwardly hugging Skye whilst they were on the sofa side by side. “You didn’t know Skye.” She said softly. “It’s not your fault.”

“But I – “

“No, Skye.” Jemma cut her off. “Although, I know a way you could help to make up for it.” She said tentatively.

“Anything!” Skye said quickly.

“Would you be able to hack my brother’s criminal records, see if you can clear his name? I… I would talk to Coulson, but I really don’t think there’s much SHIELD could do. I wouldn’t ask, but he’s really not a bad person. He’s just made a few mistakes, and you can hardly blame him, what with our father. I’d probably have been in the same place if hadn’t been able to get out of there.” She realised she was rambling and broke off, looking at Skye hopefully.

“Yes. Jemma. Of course I’ll help. It’s the least I can do.” Skye said sincerely, and Jemma wrapped her in a tight hug.

 ……………….

Jemma was sitting in the lab, staring absently at the large hangar doors, her mind spinning with all the events of the past twenty-four hours when she realised that someone was calling her name. She jerked her head around to find Ward standing beside her. 

“Oh gosh, sorry Ward. You haven’t been here long I hope.” She said weakly, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her voice.

“Are you okay?” He asked, ignoring her question. “You seem distracted.” It was a little unnerving to see his usually emotionless face laced with concern.

“Oh yes. I’m fine. Just a little tired.” She said quickly.

“Okay.” He said, clearly not convinced. “Well, dinner’s ready.”

“Okay.” She replied. “I’ll be there in a minute.” Ward didn’t move, and she glanced at him again, confused. “Is there something else?”

“Um.” He looked unusually flustered. She would have found it entertaining if she hadn’t been so tired. “I just wanted to say that an experience like yesterday’s can take a bit of time to sink in, to register. It’s okay to take some time out, if you need it. Coulson would be very understanding.”

“Oh. Thank you, Grant.” She said surprised.

“You seem a bit distracted.” He said softly, showing uncharacteristic empathy.

She sighed. “I was just thinking about a conversation I had today. That’s all.” She said quietly, looking away from him. “Coulson got in touch with my family, yesterday. Things are rather complicated with them.” She said, and then stood up quickly, trying to avoid this awkward conversation going any further. “So. Dinner.” And she walked out of the lab, leaving Ward to follow.

 

………………….

 

Skye pulled her to one side after dinner, a small smile on her face. “It’s all sorted.” She whispered into Jemma’s ear.

Jemma looked at her, amazed, and then tugged her into her pod and slid the door shut. “Really? How?” She asked nervously.

“Well, give it a bit of time and he should be released without charges. I wiped his record and all the evidence they had against him for fraud so they can’t keep holding him. They’ll know something’s happened and they’ll be suspicious, but ultimately they won’t be able to press any charges.” Skye looked smug.

Jemma gave her a small grin and wrapped her in a tight hug. “Oh, Skye, thank you!” She said seriously, releasing tension she hadn’t realised she’d been feeling. She sunk down onto her bed, looking out of the window at the clouds passing beneath them.

That was that, then. She’d done what she promised and her brother was now, for all intents and purposes, innocent. And her family were now out of her life forever.

She hadn’t realised that she’d started to cry until Skye wiped the tears from her cheeks, sitting beside her on the bed and wrapping an arm around her gently.

“Oh Jem.” Skye said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

 Jemma huffed, wiping her eyes roughly. “Skye. I told you this wasn’t your fault –“ She reprimanded, but Skye interrupted her quickly.

 “Not that, Jemma - although I am still sorry for that – just… just that this happened to you.” She explained, and Jemma snorted.

“Skye, it’s nothing to be sorry for. You of everyone must know. What happened, happened, and it was shit, but it led to all this.” She gestured around her. “Look where we are, who we’re with. I wouldn’t have met Fitz, or you, or seen the things I’ve seen. I wouldn’t wish my childhood on anyone, but I wouldn’t give it up either. Not if it meant giving up you guys.”

She looked up at Skye who was staring at her with an unreadable expression. “You really are amazing, Jemma.” Skye said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of following the series one plot a little, with the idea of family and then dealing with Ward's betrayal, let me know what you think? 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the latest instalment :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Ward have a surprising heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of past abuse  
> Fluff and comfort

Jemma noticed a change in the team after the Chitauri incident, in the way their conversations lingered, in Skye’s unexpected hugs and in the way Fitz’s eyes would flicker to her like he was checking she was still there. Although their increased attention to her was born out of one of the worst days of her life, she too found herself ever more appreciative of what she had, even found herself smiling at May’s stern rebukes when her and Fitz would stay awake all night in the lab, knowing that her harsh remonstrations were her way of telling them she cared.

She told this all to Fitz once he and Ward had boarded the plane after being extracted from Ossetia, with tears in her eyes and her hands shaking as she held him tightly, breathing in his familiar smell; breakfast tea and just a hint of solder. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, like he’d done a thousand times before, and whispered into her ear that he’d never leave her, never hurt her that way.

May and Coulson left them all to their own devices that night, and it was unanimously decided by Jemma and Skye that celebrations were in order, both for their own success at the hub and for the boys’ success on their mission. Fitz agreed willingly, and Ward grudgingly joined them under the pretence of having to keep an eye on them but accepting the drinks Skye pushed on him willingly enough.

“We need music.” Skye declared suddenly, spilling her fourth drink as she slammed it to the table and leapt up, running to her pod and coming back with her laptop and speakers.

Fitz and Jemma looked knowingly at each other as the plane filled with the opening chords of ‘Sweet Caroline’, both of them jumping up to join Skye whilst Ward tried to frown.

Jemma laughed as they all began to sing along, joining in and pulling Ward up from the sofa, smiling widely as he began to dance, not too badly either. She jumped up on to the table for the chorus and the final verse, grinning widely as she belted out the lyrics.

As the song came to a close she realised she was the only one still singing, and that Skye and Ward were looking at her with strange expressions. Fitz gave her a knowing grin and offered a hand to help her down.

“What?” She asked Skye and Ward, who continued to stare.

“Damn, Jemma, you can sing.” Skye finally said, eyes wide. “I mean, _really_ sing.” Ward nodded in agreement.

“Thank you.” She said shyly, as Fitz laughed. 

“You should hear her when she’s playing the piano, too.” He added, smiling when she shot him an angry look.

Four or five more drinks later and Skye and Fitz were passed out at the table, their eyes closed. Fitz was snoring softly. Jemma giggled. “He could never beat me at drinking.”

Ward chuckled dryly and scooped Skye up in his arms effortlessly whilst Jemma shook Fitz shoulder till he looked up blearily. “Wha’s happ’nin’?” He slurred as she heaved an arm over her shoulder and pulled him upright.

“Come on. Bedtime.” She tugged him along with her, stumbling slightly from her own drunkenness, and led him to his bed before returning to the kitchen to get him some water. He was already fast asleep when she returned and she placed it on his bedside table alongside some paracetamol. He’d be grateful in the morning.

She went back to the kitchen to get some water for herself and found Ward already sitting on the sofa. She slumped down beside him. “Skye okay?” She asked seriously, and Ward snorted.

“Define ‘okay’. She’ll be suffering in the morning, but she’ll live.”

“I think we’ll all be suffering in the morning.” Jemma groaned, observing the way the room seemed to spin around her. Ward grunted in agreement, and then they were silent for a few moments. 

“Thank you. Grant.” Jemma said quietly, eventually breaking the quiet. He looked at her like he didn’t understand what she meant. “For saving Leo. He’s the closest thing I have to family, and the thought that I could have lost him today…” She broke off as a tear slipped down her cheek and she brushed it away quickly.

Ward looked a little flustered, but he gave her a quick hug. “It’s my job Jemma. I don’t loose people, didn’t loose you, won’t loose him either, or any of the team.” He shuffled in his seat awkwardly, his face a little red. “I, um, guess I’d better get to bed. You should, too.” He suggested quietly, standing and offering her a hand up.

Jemma shrugged, the thought of her small bunk making her stomach clench. Since the Chitauri event, her dreams hadn’t been peaceful, and she didn’t especially want to find out how today’s events would add to those nightmares.

“Jemma?” He said, and Jemma knew he had put two and two together. “It’s alright to not be okay after traumatic events you know. Coulson would be very understanding if you wanted to take some time off, take a holiday, go visit your family. I could ask him if you wanted.”

Jemma looked at her hands. She knew this must be awkward for him; the emotionless soldier showing some compassion, and she didn’t quite know how to respond.

Ward continued when it became obvious she wasn’t going to say anything. “It’s just that you’ve seemed a bit withdrawn since the whole Chitauri incident, and I know today was stressful; Fitz would be entitled to leave too, if that’s what’s stopping you. I just wanted to make sure your mind is in the right place for the work that were doing.” He looked at the wall in front of him awkwardly, clearly regretting saying anything.

Jemma sighed. “I’m fine for work, Ward. I know what I’m capable of. I just… I’ve never been great with small spaces, and since the virus I’ve been a lot more aware of the fact that we’re living in a flying metal container. But I’ve got it under control.” She said firmly, meeting his eye and daring him to challenge her. “That said, if Fitz felt he wanted time off, I wouldn’t say no to a holiday.” She smiled at him, relieved when he returned it in kind.

They both left the kitchen rather quickly after that, and she found herself in Fitz’s bunk, rather than her own, without realising. Fitz rolled over as she shut the door loudly.

“You okay?” He mumbled, eyes still half closed as he wriggled closer to the wall so that she could slide in beside him.

“Fine. Go to sleep, Fitz.” She told him quietly, smoothing the curls from his forehead before rolling over to face the door. He wrapped an arm tightly around her, and she fell asleep quickly, her anxiety fading away at his understanding touch.

………………..

 

Of course, life on the plane was never an easy one, and even if Jemma and Fitz had wanted to take a break there was never a moment that it would have been appropriate. Over the next few weeks, the Chitauri incident slipped to the back of Jemma’s mind as they encountered everything the world could throw at them. And, Jemma came to realise, she truly loved her job.

That didn’t mean she was entirely over the whole heights thing though, as she realised when Ward guided her up the log in Norway. She hugged him when she was back on firm ground, and to her surprise he returned the affection.

She wished she knew how to comfort him later, when she found him obliterating a punching bag in the middle of the night. She’d been in the lab, trying to understand the biological changes in both May and Ward from the Bezerker staff when he’d appeared in the makeshift gym in the hangar. Not wanting to interrupt him, she’d watched for a few minutes, taking in the way his whole body twitched with an untamed anger at whatever that staff had brought back. Finally, when his punches left red smears on the bag, she could take it no further.

“Grant?” She called softly, standing in the doors of the lab. He froze and spun around.

“I didn’t know you were there.” He growled, breathing heavily.

“I was just going over the results.” She explained, and then gestured to his hands. “Let me fix you up.” To her surprise he followed her meekly into the lab and sat down in the chair she pointed to.

“It feels like my skin is trying to crawl off my body, like it wants to drag me into some non existent battle.” He said a little desperately, and Jemma wished with all her heart that she could do more than bandage his bleeding hands. 

She took his left one carefully in her hand, running her fingers over the split knuckles before settling a damp cloth over them. 

“It’s the memories though. Stuff I’ve spent so long hiding from.” His voice was so low she almost didn’t hear him and she suspected he was mainly muttering to himself - it was a strangely emotional sentence from someone who prided himself on acting like a robot. She wasn’t even sure if she was supposed to hear him, but she replied anyway.

“Sometimes we’re supposed to remember the bad things.” She also spoke softly, staring resolutely at his hands as she uncoiled the strip of bandage and began to wrap it around his knuckles. “Sometimes, the bad things remind us why we do what we do now. And that we’re better than our past selves.”

He’d gone very still. Jemma knew that if she looked up, he’d been staring at her, trying to work something out. “What do you know about bad things?” He asked. His tone wasn’t bitter, but sad. “You don’t seem… messy.”

She snorted quietly, and finally forced herself to look at him. He was staring at her, as though he could guess what she was thinking just by looking. “Thank you. I think.” She replied, and he shrugged.

“You want to talk about it?”

She shrugged again. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” She said, expecting Grant to close up again. To her utter astonishment he nodded and began to talk. 

“I have two brothers. My mom was devoted to my younger one, Thomas. Christian, my older one – the senator – he hated it. Hated him. And he’d… he’d make me hurt him. To get back at mom. She was a terrible mother, but Thomas was a good kid. He didn’t deserve any of the stuff I did to him.”

“The stuff Christian did to him, you mean.” She said firmly. “It was never your fault, either.” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Yeah. Well. It’s easy to say that. Not so easy to believe it.” There was an awkward silence, and she realised he was looking at her expectantly.

“My turn?” 

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I understand that. I don’t really know why I just told you, to be honest. I’ve never talked about it with anyone… the staff must have messed with my filter.”

“No. it’s okay. You shared. I will too.” She stood up from where she had sat, oppostite him, and untucked her shirt, turning and lifting it so that he could see the bottom of her back where she knew there was a nasty scar. She turned back when she heard his sharp hiss. “It was a belt buckle. My father was quite old fashioned and I was a bit of a strange kid. They thought I was an idiot until I was about six or seven. I wouldn’t talk to anyone, I’d just sit and read and refuse to do school work. It infuriated him, and he’d get drunk and… well.” She gestured to her back. “He was fond of the belt. And there was this little space under the stairs that he’d…” She shuddered. “Lets just say I don’t handle small spaces too well.”

“I’m so sorry, Jemma. You didn’t deserve that.”

 “Neither did you.” She said firmly. “I’ve never told anyone that, either. Except Fitz. I think Skye knows a little - there was an… incident, and Fitz had to tell her some sort of explanation. But not much.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone either. What was the incident?” He asked. “If you don’t mind saying? Was it just after the virus?” Darn him and his superior observation skills.

She nodded. “Coulson called my dad before we were picked up and he called back. It wasn’t the kindest of conversations.” She looked firmly at her hands, resolutely ignoring the lump in her throat, and let out a squeak of surprise when Grant wrapped her in a close hug.

“Thank you for telling me Jemma. It helped I think, in some twisted way. I’m glad we talked.” He told her quietly, and she heard the honesty in his voice as he pulled away, offering a hand to help her up. “Now. I think it’s late enough. We should go get some sleep.”

She agreed, following him up the stairs and resolutely ignoring the strange flutter in her chest as he bid her goodnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, any comments are much appreciated :)

**Author's Note:**

> We'll be meeting the rest of the team soon.
> 
> All reviews are very much welcome and appreciated.


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